“It’s just lunch,” I blurted out before realizing he was referring to the comics. “I mean, yeah, I will.” I didn’t dare glance at Cay and just power walked out of the store. Clearly, I could never visit Windy City Comics again. Maybe we could order our lunches to go and just head our separate ways before I made any more of an ass out of myself. The bracing breeze smacked me in the face the second I exited the shop, and I was grateful for the chill, if only to cool myself down.
“Did you want to race there?” Cay teased as he loped up beside me. “Just saying, slacks might not be the best for a run.”
I snorted, unable to help myself. Something about this guy was just effortlessly charming, had been from the moment we’d met at the con. “Maybe I’m just really hungry.”
Our eyes met, and his flared a little bit. If I hadn’t known he was straight, I would’ve thought it was heat in his gaze. But I was the only one here having a full-out identity crisis. Cay seemed as cool as ever, probably because he wasn’t dealing with a cock that went rogue and a brain that was equally traitorous.
“Good thing we’re heading to ‘just lunch,’ then,” he said, a teasing note in his voice.
Fucking bury me now. My cheeks were going to be burning the rest of the day at this point. Or at least untilI figured out a nondickish way to escape. “What issue did you pick up?” Diversions were good. Sometimes.
“This one,” he said, slipping the comic from the paper bag. The same Superman/Batman issue I’d gotten. My heart thumped a little harder, and I forced my gaze away. If I looked at him, he’d see all the thoughts I’d been having about him parading right across my features.
“Same,” I said, my tone coming out gruffer than intended.
The sign for McArthur’s stood out at the end of the block, the bright red overhang a familiar sight.
“Man, I haven’t been here in years,” Cay said, hooking a thumb in his pocket. “Which is ridiculous because I live, like, five minutes away.”
“Really? I used to come here with my dad after our comic runs, so it’s just tradition,” I said before realizing what I’d shared. Something about Cay set me at ease in a way few people did.
“That’s an awesome thing for you guys to share,” he said, that warm enthusiasm in his voice.
“Shared,” I admitted as we stopped in front of the hole in the wall. My gaze snagged on Cay’s, his dark eyes softening in understanding.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “That’s rough.”
My chest squeezed tight. The simple empathy reached me, unlike the platitudes I usually received, whichjust made me snappy. “Thanks.”
“Thank you for inviting me in on your tradition,” he said, his grin warm. He reached past me to grab the door, our arms brushing. The skin-to-skin contact sent a frisson of energy through me, sheer electricity. Before I could dwell on it, Cay had opened the door and was strolling inside. I followed him in.
McArthur’s looked the same as it always had on the inside: traditional Americana with the black-and-white checkerboard floors and bright red accents. The sheer amount of chrome throughout the joint only added to the charm. The scent of grease, cheese, and meat welcomed me, making my stomach rumble. Burgers never tasted quite as good anywhere else, especially not the fancy places that tried their spin, which came across as swimmingly as artisanal water.
“Want to sit at the bar or a booth?” Cay asked. As much as the bar was probably the better choice for a bro-hang or whatever this was, I hated sitting with my back exposed like that.
“Booth,” I said, slipping past him to lead the way to the counter to place our order.
“What can I get you?” the guy behind the counter asked.
I glanced at Cay, who’d slipped next to me. His arm brushed against mine again, causing my pulse to quicken. Part of me wanted to move away to preserve my sanity, but the other part wanted to stay put.
“Order for me, and I’ll pay,” Cay said, both to me and the guy at the counter.
“Two doubles and fries, all the fixings,” I said. Even though Cay told me to order for him, the urge to check in reared in a big way. Chances were, he’d hate what I chose, but it was too late now. Cay stepped in to offer his card up, and the guy rang us up before sliding to the kitchen to get the meal started. There was space to the side of the counter, by the trash cans and the exit, so I slipped there to wait. Cay slid beside me.
“What made you change your mind?” he asked as he leaned against the side of the counter. The way this man draped himself across furniture and surfaces shouldn’t be drawing my attention, but it definitely was. Maybe the confidence that he took up space was what sent my pulse fluttering, but damn.
“About what?” I asked, playing obtuse on purpose.
He arched a brow.
“Besides you cornering me at the comic book shop?” I shot back.
“Ouch,” he said, clutching his chest. “Fucking cruel, man.”
My lips twitched. Why he amused me so much was beyond me, but I rarely found someone who navigated around my natural surliness with ease. Most times, my words came out wrong, and then my statements led to arguments.
“Maybe I don’t hate your company,” I admitted.
